The Rage of Fortune by J D Davies

Author:J D Davies [Davies, J D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Published: 2017-04-16T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Nicholas Iles:

This time, no dagger at the ankle would save me.

It was a larger inn, not far from Lambeth Palace; and it was a larger brawl, by far. Twenty or so lusty, drunken lads were set against the same number, and for a far greater cause. With Essex dead, and it being treason to take sides in the names of the King of Scots, the Lady Arbella, or the Infanta, there was only one great bone of contention worth fighting over in the taverns along the Thames.

‘Shakespeare!’ cried the lads toward the door.

‘Marlowe!’ bawled those nearer me.

‘Kit Marlowe’s never going to write another word, you fuck-spittles!’

‘Aye, but he’s still a better writer dead than old Shakeshaft is alive!’

‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends!’

‘Our swords shall play the orators for us!’

A Marlowe man struck a Shakespearean full upon the jaw. The rogue fell back, tripping over a stool and falling against a table, which collapsed under him. Knives were drawn. I saw the latest of Horvath’s spies edge toward the door, while still keeping his eyes on me.

‘Nick Iles, you arse-beetle!’ cried an ugly brute whom I knew to be Stoddart, one of the Globe company. ‘Come here and fight for your precious atheistical Kit Marlowe, then!’

I raised my hands and shouted across the room.

‘Friends, surely we should not be fighting over art? Surely we should all be thankful that England has such great writers, and not taking sides between them? A false division indeed, this between dear Kit Marlowe and fair Will Shakespeare, who have both given us verse and prose to make the angels weep with joy! Come, my dear friends, let us be of good cheer, for we lovers of the theatre should be as one, bound together in fellowship and respect!’

Stoddart looked nonplussed. Then he frowned, thrust out a dagger in front of him, and ran straight for me.

‘Damn you to hell, Iles,’ he cried, ‘what purpose is there in an Englishman being alive if he doesn’t take sides? I’ll show you fellowship and respect, you droning death-token!’

He lunged forward, and I felt the dagger strike my chest. I saw the blood pour down my shirt. The tavern fell silent. I saw Horvath’s man look on in horror, then move swiftly toward the door.

‘I die,’ I said, falling forward.

Laszlo Horvath:

I am summoned to Whitehall again. My master is unhappy, and paces the room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

‘Dead. Nicholas Iles is dead. Your second witness, Horvath. Without him, there can be no treason trial.’

‘I – I know that, Master Secretary—’

‘You have failed me. And you do not even have an inkling of how badly you have failed me.’

‘But, good sir—’

‘No, I am not your good sir, for none of this is good. You assured me you had all the papers that Ravensden took from Fast Castle. You gave me that guarantee, Master Horvath. But I find it is not so. The person who studied the papers, the one who had seen the originals

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